Drowning the sorrow
by mightjustbe
Summary: Based after The girl in the gator, and on the previews for the next episode. PLEASE r&r... MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS! chapter 3 now posted... possibly the final chapter?
1. Chapter 1

He took a long swig of the bitter brew, his hand firmly wrapped around the cold dark bottle. On the table in front of him, his phone shook violently, but he knew who it was and let it go. He wasn't in the mood to hear from her. He didn't want to hear her yell at him for the things he couldn't control, for lying to her consitently... for letting Angela be right. No, what he really couldn't do is hear her voice, because he knew that she'd been crying when she found out (He'd been there, he knew painfully well what her reaction had been)--he couldn't stand to hear the tremor of her voice and know it was his fault. His heart had never felt so heavy before, and he knew with every gulp of beer it would get a little worse. 

Sighing, he picked up his now-still phone and flipped it open. _6 missed calls from BONES, 6 new voice messages_. He hit the EXIT key, and threw the phone into the chair across the room. He couldn't listen to the messages for the same reason he couldn't answer the phone. He had hit rock bottom, and the one person who he'd typically call was the one person he couldn't talk to. In a fit of self-induced rage, he launched the nearly-empty bottle across the room and watched with envy as it cracked and shattered. He was the bottle, in that instant... the only difference, he knew, was that the pieces of brown glass would be easily swept away and forgotten, and he would never be taken care of so simply, so quick and effortless. He would be broken forever.

* * *

EARLIER...

* * *

"Sully, I'm not going to help you get my partner into bed..." He glared at his friend, his mind in overdrive, his heart pounding angrily within his ribcage, his blood boiling.

"Why, it's not like you want her!" Sully exclaimed, propping his feet up onto the desk in front of him, his ankles crossed. Booth felt his lips twitch, and instantly knew that his cover was blown. Sully's eyes widened, "You do, don't you? You have the hots for Tempe!"

Booth shook his head, quickly trying to backtrack. "No, come on..." he made a face, raised an eyebrow and tossed his friend an easy smile. "She's just my partner, Sully, that's it."

"But you don't want to just be her partner, you want her. Are you..." He dropped his feet and propped his elbows on the desk instead, leaning in close and lowering his voice conspiratorily, "Are you in love with her?"

"Don't be stupid, man..." He emphatically shook his head, but Sully saw through him.

"If you don't love her, then say it. Say that you don't right now."

"I don't..."

"No, the whole thing. Say 'I don't love her', word for word." Booth lowered his eyes, and Sully stood, exiting the office. He had his answer...

When Booth realized he was gone, he whipped out his cell and called him. "Sullivan."

"Sully, where the hell are you going, man?"

There was a sigh, and Booth held his breath, "I'm going to the Jeffersonian..."

"What for?"

"Booth, she deserves to know. She deserves to make an informed decision..."

"Don't do this!"

"You didn't leave me a choice, Booth!"

The audible click shocked him back to reality. He jumped from his seat and ran for the stairs, leaping down them in record time and chasing after his friend, his competition.

He threw the car in park and ran through the sliding glass doors, beelining for Bones' office. He slowed when he saw Sully standing in front of her, his hands buried in his pockets. She was laughing at him, and he had a glimmer of hope--she didn't believe him! Their friendship was spared, and she wouldn't see Sully--it was a win-win situation for him. He sighed, and took a few tentative steps, trying to hear their conversation. The look on his friends face was one of pure determination, and he kept going, kept explaining. Something he said clicked for Tempe, her face changed, her shoulders slumped... and that's when he saw it. A tear, streaking down her face. Sully reached to wipe it away, but Booth couldn't watch. He spun on his heel, his fists clenched. He heard Angela calling after him, but he couldn't face her. He couldn't face any of them. He threw up one hand, a parting gesture, making his exit before he broke down.

"Booth!" He heard Bones yell for him, her voice altered by her emotions, and he sprinted for the door. He hopped into his SUV, called Cullen and told him he wouldn't be returning to work due to illness (he'd called it food poisoning, and the emotion squeezed in his throat made it believable), and then he stopped at a store and bought two six-packs, heading home to drown his sorrows. That was when the first call came, it was from Angela, and he didn't answer. Her voice mail revealed that she was stuck between happiness at being right, at knowing what they both refused to acknowledge, and confusion. He deleted the message and continued the drive. The next call was Sully--he, too, left a message, but he couldn't listen and just deleted it. He pulled into his usual parking spot, grabbed his beers, and entered his apartment. It was empty, quiet... lonely. Usually, he thought it was rather calming... but after his day, it was just another sad reminder. He placed the beer in the fridge and headed for the shower, stripping off his clothes and standing under the burning stream, trying to wash away the sadness that overwhelmed him. How had he let Sully get that out of him? He'd been so good at playing it off with the squints, especially Angela, but even more than that, he'd expertly hidden his emotions from Tempe. Now... now it was all over. His brave facade was gone, and now, he had the silence. Sighing, he turned off the water and wrapped his towel around his waist, heading for his bedroom. His phone rang loudly from the other room, but he ignored it yet again. He slipped on an old, comfortable pair of black sweatpants and a well-worn white undershirt. He rubbed the towel through his hair vigorously before throwing it into the hamper.

He slipped into a pair of fuzzy, fun socks Parker had picked out for him and headed back to the kitchen, taking out two beers and gulping them down quickly. The phone rang yet again, and he didn't bother to look. All other options had been worn out, and that left one person to be calling him, and he wasn't ready for that. He didn't know if he ever would be. He placed the empty bottles to the side and grabbed two more, repeating the task until one of the six packs had been completely drained of every drop of liquor. He burped loudly, his head beginning to gain some lightness, and grabbed one beer from the remaining pack. He slipped into the corner of his sofa, his phone on the table before him, and he clicked on the television. He flipped throught the channels absent mindedly, finally settling on some sports recap channel. He gulped the beer as the phone began again--this making three calls in 45 minutes. He swallowed the last drop of beer and stood, his head swimming from the sudden elevation and the booze. He walked unsteadily to the fridge, pulled out two beers, and swallowed one quickly, taking the other to the couch to watch football. That, of course, was a lie. He wasn't watching the television. He was too caught up in the self-pity game he was so good at playing when things didn't go his way.

As he finished the fourth beer, the phone rang for the fifth time. He had just settled back into the couch, his feet propped, his fifth beer working it's way to empty, when the phone shook again. He had enough. He couldn't do it. He launched the bottle and threw the phone into the corner. He desperately wanted that final beer, hoping it would knock him out, finish him off. As he stood to retrieve the broom, there was a knock on the door. He ignored it, knowing without having to look who was behind the slab of wood. He grabbed the hand broom and dust pan and crouched, holding onto the wall to keep his poor balance so he didn't fall face-first into the shards of glass. He heard the keys jingle outside and knew she was letting herself in. He thought about abandoning his task and rushing for the door, pulling the chain into place to prevent her access... but he knew all he'd end up doing was hurting her physically, and he thought perhaps he'd caused her enough pain for the day.

She entered slowly, the only light was the glow of the television. She saw him kneeling, and flipped on a light. "Turn that off..." He muttered, his eyes studying the floor as his hands held a loose grip on the handles.

She glanced at the wall, small shards stuck in place by the drying beer, a small round splatter dripping to the floor. She saw the empty bottles in the kitchen, lining the counter, and counted them. "Have you really had ten beers, Booth?" She whispered, her voice shaking.

His hands stopped moving, and he released his grip, standing and looking at her. Her face was paler than usual, her eyes rimmed in red and her cheeks tear-stained. He sighed, "Eleven" he slurred, picking up the dustpan and throwing what little glass had been swept up away.

"You've had eleven beers in a two hour period!!" her voice was scared and confused, "Why would you drink so much?"

He shook his head and looked at her. "Do you really need to ask? I was there, in the Jeffersun... the lab... when Sully told you what he knew. I saw you cry, Bones. So don't pretend you don't know why I'm drinking."

"So you're getting beligerently drunk because of me?"

"No!" He stepped around her and sank into his couch yet again, flipping off the television. "No... I'm drinking 'cause of me."

"What did you do?"

"Ruined it."

She sat at the opposite end of the couch, turned facing him, even though he was staring at the wall in front of him. "What did you ruin, Booth?"

He sighed again, shaking his head. "Everything. I ruined our friendship. I ruined our partnership. I ruined Sully's chance with you..."

"Who said Sully had a chance with me in the first place?"

"I'm drunk, not stupid..."

She gaped at him, her jaw slack, and he knew he hadn't said that right. "And what's that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm some kind of slut?"

"No, Bones, that... that wasn't what I said. Not what I meant... Listen... He asked you out, you accepted." He stabbed his finger in her direction, his eyes drifting close in a drunken stupor, "He wanted my help to win you over. I said..."

"I know what you said..." She whispered, staring at her hands.

"That what he told you?" She nodded, "That what made you cry?"

"No." She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears, "No, Booth, what made me cry was hearing that you loved me from someone other than you."

He stared at her, "Angela tells you all the time!"

"That's different. From her, it's conjecture. From Sully... it was fact. Straight from the camel's back..."

"Horse's mouth..." He muttered, smiling.

"Whatever. Booth, you should have told me."

"I couldn't tell you, Bones, are you kidding me? After all my speeches, all my 'There are some people you can't sleep with' and my 'There's a line that we can't cross', It would've been..." He paused, trying to think of the right word.

She offered, "Hypocritical?"

He pointed, grinning, "That's it! It would've been... whatever, for me to come to you and tell you, hey, after all you've been through since we've met, and all the bullshit I've fed you... I'm in love with you. Wanna give it a go?" A noise caught in his throat, "No. You deserve better."

"Better than you?"

"Sully's better than me. Give him a chance. He's a good guy..."

She scooted closer to him, "You're a good guy, Booth."

"Naw, not like Sully. He's definetly better. He told you how I felt to give you the choice, between him or me. You should pick him."

She placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her, "I don't want to choose him. I want you, Booth..."

"Why?"

She shrugged, kissing him on the cheek, "You should answer your phone more often. Or return calls... maybe even listen to you voice mails..." She stood and headed for the door, hesitating after she pulled it open. "You know, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. You should take some aspirin before bed, and put some water, aspirin, and a trashcan next to your bed. You're going to need it..."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

She smiled at him, "It's up to you." She closed the door, and he sighed, relaxing into the back of the couch.

He awoke to the sun, streaming in from the windows, his head throbbing painfully. He had stumbled into the bathroom sometime in the night, and was now curled on his side, wrapped around the toilet. He had literally spent the night hugging his toilet. His insides quivered, empty and aching from the violent loss throughout the night. He stood on shaking legs and brushed his teeth, erasing the taste of stale beer and vomit. He stepped carefully into the living room, finding his cell phone on the chair he'd left it in the previous night, and quickly realizing that the encouter with Bones had been nothing more than a drunken illusion. Flipping open his phone, he saw _3 missed calls from BONES, 2 missed calls from ANGELA, 3 missed calls from CULLEN, 14 NEW VOICE MESSAGES_. He sighed heavily, pressing the phone to his ear as he listened. The first one was from Bones, as were the next five, all saying the same thing, "We need to talk, Booth...", and nothing more. Hadn't she said the previous night that she'd told him something in the voice mails? There were only six from her from the night before, and all were the same. Sighing he kept listening. The next call was from Cullen, at 6 in the morning, saying that if you were sick, you were still expected to send notice of your absence. The following two calls from him contained the same message, the volume increasing with each one.

Angela's voice mail was cryptic: "Booth... You've got to call, okay? It's important. I'd rather you hear it from me..."

His heart sank, but there were three missed calls from Brennan, so he knew she wasn't in danger. In fact, the next three messages were from her: "Where are you, Booth? I'm worried... Call me.", "Booth, seriously, this isn't funny. I don't know what you think you're doing, but I don't play games...", and the final one, "Please be okay," in which she was sobbing. His heart dropped, and he listened to the last message, another from Angela. "Booth... She needs you. Suck up your pride and get in here, okay?"

He listened to the mechanical voice as it quoted the time as 8:47 am, and looked at his watch. 9:12. He deleted all the messages and called Cullen back, telling him his phone had been left in the other room, and he had spent the night vomiting. No, he wasn't going to make it in that day either, and yes, he knew that meant overtime later. He sighed, dialing Angela's number first. "Angela Montenegro..."

"It's me." His voice was thick and raspy... he sounded like death, even to himself.

"Oh, my God! You sound like shit. What happened to you? Why haven't you answered your phone? Where in the hell have you been? Do you have any idea..."

"Whoa, calm down. My head is pounding and I cannot take manic screams right now, okay? What happened to me is I ruined my life last night, and I decided to drown my sorrows in eleven beers. I haven't answered my phone, because I was busy sticking my face in the toilet. I have been, as I just said, in my apartment, locked in my bathroom. Answer all you questions?"

"Except one--why the hell aren't you here?"

"I'm taking a sick day, Ange."

"No, I mean for Bren!"

His eyes widened, "What happened? Is she okay?"

"What do you think? She was all happy and excited to go on this date with this Sullivan character, and then he shows up and tells her she has to chose between him and you. She laughs at him--haha, very funny, what the hell are you talking about. Then, he tells her, get this--that you're in love with her. So she kicks him out, tells him she doesn't see liars, and she doesn't want to hear from him, and how can he call himself your friend!? Then she's sees you, leaving, and she calls out to you to try and tell you what he'd said, and you just run away. So that gets her to thinking... maybe, just maybe, Sullivan wasn't lying."

"Of course he wasn't... Sully can do a lot of things, but lying ain't one of them."

"I know that, and you know that, but she... didn't. Until you left. And she kept trying to call you, and trying to call you. She just wanted to hear you say it was going to be okay. She finally knew that you loved her, and she was coming to grips with it slowly, and she didn't need to hear you say it or try to deny it... she knew. She just wanted you to tell her that you'd still be there, that no matter what you were still her friend." Angela took a deep breath, "And you couldn't be bothered. So... how do you think she's doing?"

"Oh, Fuck..."

"Yeah, fuck is right..." Angela muttered, hanging up. Booth stood and went to his room, throwing on a tee and slipping into some jeans and a pair of sneakers. His head was still throbbing, his insides still churning, his heart still breaking... but he had to find a way to fix it. Like he always did...

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AN: What do you think... one-shot, or continue??


	2. Chapter 2

It took him a full thirty minutes to get to the Jeffersonian, a trip that usually only took fifteen, because he had to stop three different times to try and vomit. He didn't succeed, because his insides were bone-dry, but the intensity of the hangover forced him to stop still, and try. He parked in the structure and sat, staring at the wall in front of him for what felt like an eternity, unable to move. Unable to think, really. He had messed up, big time, that he knew. He knew that even though she was going to be angry, her reaction (which was certainly going to be full of rage and contempt) was going to be a mere mask of the pain and abandonment and fear she felt. It wasn't her anger that stopped him, for he had grown used to her anger. It was the sadness and the pain that stopped him dead in his tracks. He would be unable to control himself should she break down, he knew, because she was one of his few weaknesses--the only others being Parker, and of course the others in his family. The clock told him it was nearly noon, that he'd been sitting there, staring at the tan wall for over an hour. He took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out before he exhaled, and exited the SUV. He took slow, labored steps, cautiously approaching the building, uncertain of what lie ahead for him. Again his stomach twisted, and he doubled over, his arms folded over his midsection. His eyes watered and his mouth moistened, but nothing came, yet again. He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself together. "This is not going to be a good day..." He muttered, running a shaking hand through his messy, dark hair. 

He stepped through the sliding doors with hesitance. One of the guards smiled at him, and he waved politely. He saw the group on the platform as he rounded the corner, and he stopped, just watching. He heard bits and pieces of their conversation, Zach going over the cause of death of some ancient Roman warrior, Brennan nodding, pleased. Angela was itching to sketch him, for fun mostly, and Hodgins was standing to the side, looking bitter there wasn't anything for him to do. He was tempted to smile, the scene familiar and comforting. Suddenly the talking ceased and Angela jerked her head in his direction. Brennan stopped moving, stopped smiling, stopped breathing. She just stood, staring at her best friend, too afraid to move. He sighed, quickly realizing he was going to have to make the first move. He offered the women a small smile before he turned and went into her office, waiting for her to adjust to the idea of him being there. Perhaps what she was waiting for was for her fear and sadness to fade away, so she could put up that tough, angry shell. He smiled at how predictable she'd become, how easy it was to read her now.

"Hello, Booth. Good to know you're not dead..." She shut her office door, her cold voice forcing his smile to die quickly, "What can I do for you?"

Although she was now looking at him, it was as if she were talking to someone she'd just met. There was no comfort, no familiarity. Her features were stoic and blank, and he sighed. "I'm here to apologize, Bones..."

"Don't call me that." She whispered, her eyes now staring at her desk.

Her words stung him, and he flinched. _Shit_, he thought, _I've seriously ruined this_. "Come on, don't be like this..."

"Like what, Booth?"

"Will you please just... will you hear me out, Temperance?"

She bit her lower lip, but he saw the beginning of its tremble, "Say what you have to, and then I think you should leave."

"Alright. After I'm done, if you still want me to leave, I will," He took a breath, and stared at his folded hands, "I never intended for you to find out... how I feel about you..."

"And that's supposed to make it better?" She spat, her cheeks flushed. 'Like clockwork', he thought...

"No, it's not. I'm just trying to be honest with you. I didn't want you to know how I feel because I never wanted to jeopardize our relationship. You're my best friend, Bones..."

"Don't call me that..."

"Will you stop interrupting me?" his nostrils flared, and she was tempted to laugh, he knew, because of the twitch in the corners of her mouth. "You're my best friend. You're the best partner I've ever had. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by telling you that I cared for you in a way that went deeper than all of that."

"How long?"

"Excuse me?" For the first time since he started, their eyes met, and his heart stopped. For the first time since he'd met her, he couldn't read her eyes. The realization scared him and thrilled him all the same.

"How long have you felt this way?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples as his migraine flared again, "I honestly don't know. I can't remember a time that I didn't feel this way..." His smile came easily, "Although I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"For whom?" Her eyes sparkled, which usually meant she was happy, but he knew now their meaning was slanted... there was something else, there must be...

"For you."

"How would you being able to pinpoint the time your feelings changed make any of this easier for me?"

"You're the one who asked the question, Bones, so you tell me..."

She sat back in her chair, her fingers pressing gently against her eyelids. She was frustrated, he knew. To the average person, it might appear she was exhausted, but he knew better. He knew she was trying to fight the frustration, to fight the anger, to fight the pain. "I dont' know. I thought maybe if I knew when... I would know how"

He leaned forward, fighting a smile. "And how would knowing how make it any better?"

A noise resembling a growl fought to the surface, and he nearly laughed, but knew that would certainly ruin what might still be saved... "I don't know, Booth! I thought maybe... maybe if it was a certain instant, if it could be narrowed down..."

"Then maybe it could be reversed?"

"No!" He smiled at that, a glimmer of hope restored. "No... not reversed, Booth. Just... easier to digest."

"I know this is hard for you, to say the least. But Bones, you have to believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know that. It's just... where do we go from here?" Her voice shook with uncertainty.

"We don't go anywhere. We keep our relationship the way it was before--We're friends, we're partners... and hopefully one day, you'll feel something else, something other than friendship. And that... that's when we'll figure it out." He offered her his charm smile, placing his shaky hands on his knees and standing. Everything was back to normal (or, as normal as it had ever been between them...), and his stomach had remained still for their entire conversation. He was lost in his hope, his restored faith that things would always work themselves out, as he approached the door. He was already a foot out of her office when her voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

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AN: Thank you for all of the reviews! Hope you enjoyed this (shorter) chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

"What if I've already figured it out, Booth?" 

He stopped, breathing deeply. Outside the office, in front of him, Angela and Hodgins watched him carefully. He could tell they were trying to gauge the mood he was in, in an attempt to see how he would leave Brennan--if he were angry, she would surely be either sad or angry herself... but if he were happy, that would only mean one thing. So they stared, fascinated, trying to see if they could read him. He fought to keep still, to keep from smiling, to keep his face blank. After a few seconds, he heard her whisper his name again, and he turned and shut the office door behind him. He sat back onto the couch wordlessly, unable to look at her. "Alright... let's' hear it..."

"Excuse me?" He looked at her, finally, and was slightly relieved to see confusion etched in her face. _It was better than anger_, he thought, _or sadness_.

"What do you think, of the situation?" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He went to stand, to pace around and show his frustration (a frustration which he foolishly hoped would be alleviated by her confession of mutual adoration), but suddenly he was dizzy.

"Booth?" She rushed from behind her desk, gently pushing him back into the couch, his eyes closed to try and regain his internal balance. "Booth, what's wrong?"

"Just a hangover, Bones, no biggie..."

She rolled her eyes, "That wasn't a hangover. You were off balance... dizzy..." She felt his forehead and his cheeks, holding his face between her hands and looking into his eyes, examining him. He warmed under her touch, but not due to illness... he felt hot beneath her fingertips, on fire. He tried to steady his breathing as she spoke, "How long has it been since you've had anything to eat... or anything to drink besides beer, for that matter?"

He shook his head, "I don't remember. I had some water last night, but not much. And a little this morning..."

Concern flooded her face, "And food?"

He groaned, "Don't mention food, Bones. I've puked enough to last my entire life, not to mention the dry heaving. Have you ever realized how painful dry heaves are?" He grumbled, pushing her hands away, "I'm fine, really..."

"No, actually, you're not. Booth, vomiting is the body's natural reaction to ingesting toxins. It's a process to rid your body of the things that are hurting it... dry heaves are the result of your body needing to get rid of toxins and being unable to because you haven't eaten anything." She shook her head and went back behind her desk, crouching down and rifling through her large bag. She stood back up and approached him, a brown paper bag and large bottle of water in hand. "Here, eat and drink."

"I can't," he moaned miserably, saliva welling in his mouth as he felt another heave coming.

"You can and you will. Come on, when was the last time you got to enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a banana and some apple juice for lunch?"

He laughed, "Not since elementary school..." she blushed and he grabbed the water, suddenly aware of his parched throat. "Thanks, Bones..."

She nodded and set the bag on the table in front of him. She approached the desk and paused in front, just standing. "Booth..."

He glanced over, "Yeah?"

"I um... I have to go back and finish some work with Angela and Hodgins... I'll be back."

He watched her leave with a smile. He gulped the water and opened the bag, reaching for the banana. As he peeled the thick yellow skin, it occured to him he'd never found out exactly what her answer was... she'd said she'd figured out what she wanted, but she never had the chance to tell him. "Shit" he muttered, placing the fruit into the bag and jumping up, walking quickly to Angela's office.

"He's in my office right now, Ange! I need your help... please!" He heard her voice as he rounded the corner, but he chose to stay pressed against the wall, eavesdropping. Maybe he could get his answer this way...

"Just tell him the truth, Bren. What could it hurt?" Angela, the voice of reason, per usual.

"It could hurt everything! I'm not ready to lose him, Angela, but..." Booth turned and walked away. Not because it was wrong to eavesdrop and that fact was suddenly obvious to him after a lapse in judgement... no, he walked back to Brennan's office aware of only one thing--she wasn't ready to lose him. That means she's figured out that she doesn't want me, right? That she won't? He took a deep breath, sinking into the couch, defeated. He'd let himself hope, and that after all is the one thing you should never do when you love someone--have the hope they'll love you back. It would only get you hurt...

He reached into the sack and retrieved the partially peeled fruit and devoured it. Maybe he could use his vomitting to his advantage. Maybe he could duck out of her office without hearing her saying... what she was going to say. Embarassment quickly flooded him. How could he have been so stupid? He shook his head, looking around the office, drinking in its familiarity in case this was the last time he saw it. In case this was the last time he called Bones his partner... The idea scared him, shook him to his core. More than just loving her, she was now his best friend, a fact he had readily supplied to her earlier. He had let his heart get in the way of his mind, and for the first time, he wished he were a little more like Tempe.

"Booth?" Her whisper startled him and he turned to see her, shutting the door behind her. "I think..."

"You know what, Bones... it's fine. Really. I get it--I crossed the line, and I shouldn't have. I made the damned line, and I crossed it!" His voice rose, anger corrupting its usual steadiness. "Let's just forget this ever happened, alright?" He stood and approached the door, but she placed herself between the two. Booth was close to breaking, he needed to leave, "Let me go, Temperance," He whispered.

"No! Booth, I don't want to forget this happened!" She was looking into his eyes, her own plagued with what he assumed was despair. "Sit down, please?"

"I can't do this, okay? I just... I can't..."

She placed her hands firmly on his chest and pushed him back gently, leading him to his former seat and pressing him into the cushions. She remained in front of him, her foot tapping nervously. "You have no choice. You didn't give me a choice and now, you don't have one. Booth, you should have told me. Angela and I just discussed this, and she thinks the only way for us to be okay it to actually communicate. So, I have to ask you to not interrupt me and to listen very closely to what I'm going to tell you. She says that the reason you didn't tell me is because I am not very easy to read emotionally, and that I'm very... distant. Although the word she used was 'Cold', and I'm not quite sure I want to know the meaning of that." Booth gave her a little half smile, confirming she was right--she didn't want to know. "She also says that she thinks that if I were more open and honest about my emotions with you, you wouldn't have kept this from me. So, I'm going to tell you what I'm feeling, even though I think this is too much like some kind of therapy session..." She took a deep breath and met his eyes, "Booth... I am not in love with you."

His heart sank, and his head fell, his chin resting against his chest. "Booth, look at me." Her voice was firm, but different. It was... sad sounding. He looked at her, his eyes filled, and he was embarassed yet again. "I am not in love with you. That's what I keep telling myself. '**You are not in love with your partner, Brennan. It is impossible. Love is just hormones, you know this**!' But it doesn't change the fact that I only feel truly safe when I'm with you, even though I always tell you I'm more than capable of caring for myself. It doesn't change the fact that my entire day is ruined if I don't get to see that huge, cheeky smile of yours, or hear you call me 'Bones'... it doesn't change the fact that my heart pounds when you touch me in the most innocent ways, or that when you do, my mind drifts to thoughts that could make Hugh Hefner blush. It doesn't change the fact that when I'm not with you, I wish I was, and I don't feel whole until I see you..." Her voice dropped and she sat beside him, grabbing his hands in her own. "Booth, I keep telling myself that I'm not in love with you... but I think I have just never really been in love before... and the idea of loving you this much and possibility losing you..." A tear slipped down her cheek, and he knew she was thinking of all the loved ones she'd lost, by death or by choice. "The possibility of losing you scares the hell out of me. I couldn't handle losing you..."

He nodded, his mind running over her words. She stared at him curiously, "Say something..."

He didn't. He couldn't think of anything to say. So instead he released her hands and almost smiled as her face fell slightly. He gently wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, his fingers intwined with her dark hair. He pulled her towards him, his lips grazing hers softly. When he pulled away, he smiled, and kissed her forehead. He stood, "I'm going to go home and get some rest... try to get over this hangover." She nodded, but she looked a little sad again, so he kissed her again, his head swimming in delight. "Come over later, after work?"

She nodded, a smile gracing her lips. He returned it before he opened the door and headed out of her office. He could feel Angela and Hodgins watching him again, trying to read him. He made it easy with the tell-tale charm smile plastered on his lips, for he was unable to even attempt to tease them with a blank look. He made eye contact with Angela, his grin never faltering as he gave her a short nod, a 'thank you for everything' nod, and she squealed with happiness. As he exited the building, he heard Hodgins ask her what had happened, why she was so happy. He paused, waiting to hear Angela's response. "Because, Hodgy, all is right with the world again!" He smiled, shaking his head as he approached his SUV. She was right... all was right with the world, but he didn't think it was 'again'. It was, for the first time, absolutely perfect.

* * *

AN: And I think that's where it ends... Hope you enjoyed it!


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